Possession
by arainymonday
Summary: The speaker is a young man with brown hair, delicate features, and an eager smile. For half a minute, his eyes are a beautiful green, and Len mistakes him for one of the fae. Then he blinks his demon eyes. Written for Coldflash Week 2016, Day Six: Dark!Barry


**Title:** Possession **  
Rating:** R **  
Warnings:** character death, supernatural violence **  
Pairings:** Barry/Len **  
Spoilers:** none

 **Author's Note:** This is a Supernatural crossover. If you're not familiar with Supernatural, I recommend the Supernatural Wiki for information, but everything relevant is explained in the story too.

* * *

 **Possession**

The corner booth of Saints & Sinner is Len's throne, and when he sits here, he holds court over his domain like the king of men that he is. Dim lighting, loud music, and flowing alcohol enliven the regular crowd milling around billiard tables and in the dark recesses of booths. He breathes in the satiation the way others breathe air.

"It's a good night for you."

The speaker is a young man with brown hair, delicate features, and an eager smile. For half a minute, his eyes are a beautiful green, and Len mistakes him for one of the fae. Then he blinks his demon eyes. A thrill rushes through Len. Demons are always hungry for something, and if he's coming straight to Len, he must be a new escapee. The ones who have just escaped Hell are always ravenous.

"What's your name?"

"Bartholomew."

Len's eyebrows arch. "Unexpected."

The demon laughs under his breath and slides into the booth next to Len. He doesn't understand personal space, either because he's too fresh from Hell or because he's hungry for a body other than the one he possesses.

"Call me Barry. I'm not _that_ Bartholomew."

"Thank Christ. That would have been awkward."

Barry laughs openly. "You're funny, Len. Not all of the Old Ones appreciate Biblical humor."

"You've met a Leviathan before?"

"Last time I escaped Hell. It feels like such a long time ago."

"You must be hungry."

"For so much. I hear you're the man to find me what I want."

"There's a price for my services. I have hungers too."

"Do you like this body?" Barry asks. He guides Len's hands between his legs. "It has a nice cock, don't you think?"

Lust and hunger rush into each other and become a consuming emptiness that he needs to fill with something, anything. The more cautious voice he's learned to listen to after living among humans and controlling the supernatural creatures around Central City is dull. They walk a fine line between war and peace, between thriving and attracting the attention of Hunters. But he's so, so, so hungry.

"You sate yourself with theft," Barry whispers breathily into his ear. "But there are other types of hunger."

Len has existed since before good and evil, angels and demons, the soul itself. He is the first and mightiest of God's creatures, but he is a slave to this pretty demon. Barry shouts at the bartender to bring them drinks, and since he's sitting with Len, he's obeyed like he's the king of these sinners.

It's a good thing Len stocks the bar well because Barry doesn't hit a wall. He drinks like a vampire, something the Central City coven notices and wants to turn into a drinking game. Len knows patience. He's lived for uncounted millennia. It's become part of his nature. He contents himself with exposing and kissing Barry's pale skin and stroking the insides of his thighs.

"You know I'm dangerous," Barry says.

He might be as old as Moses, literally, but Barry seems as young as playacting witches. Len allows him to think he's the most dangerous person in this bar - for now - but a time will come when he recognizes power as danger, and in this place, Len holds all of it.

"I like danger. It feels like life."

A ripple of disquiet reaches Len. He turns away from Barry, who also pauses with a shot glass halfway to his lips and cocks his head to the side. He can sense it too. There's a human in Saints & Sinners. Whether he's a witch or hunter, he's inexperienced to stumble into this bar. He approaches Len's booth, his eyes fixed on Barry.

"Let him go," the man says.

A wicked grin plays across Barry's lips. "Hey, Joe. It's been ... fifteen years?"

"Yeah. Fifteen years since I sent you back to Hell. How you'd enjoy your visit home?"

Len feels the tension spreading through the bar. This man, Joe, isn't a novice hunter. He's a desperate hunter. They're balanced on a knife's edge.

"Not as much as I enjoyed taking possession of Barry again."

A delicious shudder passes down Len's spine. Barry is the name of the body, not the demon. He can think of only a few reasons a demon would take the human's name, and the most likely is to torture the human soul trapped inside its own skin. And if the demon possessed this body fifteen years ago, Barry couldn't have been older than eleven.

Whatever happens, they have to protect Barry from this hunter. Len needs him to keep the difficult ones like Mark and Bivolo in line.

Joe moves quickly for a human. The holy water splashes against Barry's skin, and he recoils and screams in agony. His eyes are green and afraid when he looks up. Joe rushes forward, heedless of the Leviathan at Barry's side and the witches and vampires and faeries at his back.

"It's okay, Barr. I'm here, and I'm taking you home, son. I'm going to exorcise this demon and make sure it can never take possession of you again."

"I'm s-so scared, Joe," Barry says.

His voice trembles, but he doesn't pull away from Len. His body is taut where it's pressed alongside Len, like a sprinter waiting for the starting gun. The holy water didn't hurt Barry. Anticipation courses through Len's veins.

"It'll be okay, Barr. I've got you. You're safe now."

Barry punches forward with demonic strength. His fist sinks into Joe's rib cage, and Len assumes, closes around his heart. Cheers erupt as the hunter falls to the floor. The vampires skitter away as dead man's blood pools around him.

"I'll clean it up," Mick grumbles. "The ghouls might play nicer if we give them a treat."

Len strokes the delicate skin behind Barry's ear. His eyes slip closed and he almost mewls in delight. "His suffering ... the torment is exquisite. I haven't felt this good since I made him murder his parents."

Len crowds in a close. He kisses at the spot he's been stroking and slips his hands between Barry's thighs. "We're going to be great together," Len whispers into his ears.

Len doesn't expect it, but in hindsight, he should have known better than to play with fire. Like Joe, he understands what's happening a second too late. Barry strikes the killing blow swiftly, though to a creature who has lived since before time began, it feels like slow motion. He'll survive this and regenerate. Leviathans are too strong to die by demon hands. He's not worried on that account. But the damage will have been done. He's been dethroned in front of his court.

"This will ease the sting," Barry says. He drops a glass of whiskey down in front of Len.

Len doesn't know how much time has passed since he died. He doesn't know why Barry is still here. Demons are a hell of a lot easier to kill than Leviathans, and Len isn't opposed to drawing a devil's trap on this floor and sending this two-faced bastard right back to hell himself if he has to.

"At least, it looks like regrowing a head stings," Barry says. "Drink up. I promise you'll feel better."

Barry helps Len climb to his feet. He runs his hands over Len's shorn hair, and blinks his demon eyes. "I know you're angry, but you'll forgive me in time when you see what a benevolent leader I can be."

"I'm not letting you take everything I built," Len growls.

"Oh, Len. Please don't. You sound so tragic. Just accept what everyone here tonight knows now. You're mine. Everything you have is mine to control."

Len's breaths comes fast and hard. His fingers curl into fists, but it will do no good to beat Barry's body to a pulp. The game will be longer and infinitely more difficult, but Len is patient and immortal. The same can't be said of Barry who showed his cards in only a few hours. It's been centuries since he had a worthy opponent. It might even be fun.

"Like I said, we're going to be great together."

Barry claps his hands together. "Yes! That's what I like to hear. So we have a deal?"

Len grabs Barry by the collar and hauls him forward. The kiss that seals their rivalry is deep and dirty, more of an opening salvo than a gentlemen's agreement. Barry gives as good as he gets. Hunger consumes him.


End file.
